


Ladies' Night at the Inventory

by knives4cash



Category: Fallout: New Vegas, Halo, Mass Effect, Poker Night 2, Portal (Video Game), The Walking Dead (Video Game)
Genre: Fanservice, Humor, Poker Nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knives4cash/pseuds/knives4cash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starring Chell and GlaDOS from Valve's "Portal," Commander Jane Shepard from EA's "Mass Effect" trilogy, Courier Six from Obsidian's "Fallout: New Vegas," Cortana from Bungie and 343 Industries' "Halo" series, and Clementine from TellTale's "The Walking Dead".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One of Three

"Wake up."

Why? Why can't I just be left to my own slumber for at least a few hundred years? She has to pester me constantly, and she can't even let me sleep? Not today, GLaDOS.

"All of your vitals are being monitored. I know you're awake, fatty, so get up before I dump you out of bed," she commands in her robotic tone.

No sense in delaying the inevitable. I've tried killing her, she's tried killing me, and we've both learned the hard way that our relationship is one that will have to endure to the day that one of us finally dies.

Perhaps today will be different. There's something about her monotone, sarcastic, narcissistic tone that challenges the status quo.

"I know what you're thinking," she states as I get to my feet. How interesting, the floor of my stasis chamber is heated. It's still the pale, cold room I've had to use for so long; but she's being more… hospitable.

I'm feeling a sense of dread, possibly terror. It's oddly invigorating, as it's my job to risk my life for solving puzzles and that has become quite monotonous.

"And you're quite right," she finishes. "Today is important. So important that I've had to call upon you, of all people, for assistance. Trust me, if there were any other options, I'd take them."

A hole opens up in the floor, and my portal gun rises up on a circular stand. "Take the portal gun," she instructs.

Frowning, I obey.

"Please refrain from letting your pink, mushy gunk of mucus for a brain matter slide out your nostrils because I'm about to throw your whole existence into question," she states. "You're not going to be solving a puzzle today, despite our former and still very current agreement of coexistence."

She's getting anxious about something that happens today. And I'm guessing she's about to tell me why.

"Today is so important that I am going to lower my superior status as your god and master and humbly ask you: Don't screw this up, please?"

Humility through desperation? If Black Mesa isn't invading the installation, I'm going to be severely underwhelmed.

"Here, look." A hole opens up in the floor, and a small bowl of... grey matter and a moldy potato rise up. "I made you dinner. Everybody loves a balanced dinner. Go ahead, dig in. It's on me."

Seriously? She honestly expects me to eat this? At least with the nutrient paste I could keep it down!

"Don't give me that look," she bites. "Giving the camera a cold frown won't change anything. Fine, I get it. You've finally decided to do something about your weight. I'm so happy for you."

The bowl of bile sinks back under the floor.

"Look, I'll be honest. There are a lot of valuable pieces of technology and history at stake, and you need to win it all in a poker tournament. That's it, that's really it. No tricks, no traps, just a friendly game of high stakes poker in which items from other worlds are at stake."

A poker tournament? She woke me up from stasis to play an adult's card game? Well, if that's all it takes to shut her up and get me back to a peaceful slumber, I suppose I'm game for it.

"Excellent!" she applauds, as a blue portal opens on the wall in front of me. "Just step right through! You have to knock out four other morons, that's all you have to do! I mean really, how could even an incompetent mute like you screw this one up?"

Never have I been more happy to step through a portal.

It's a decent-sized room. Underlying theme is red, tall ceiling. A stage at the north end, a small bar to the west. A woman with enormous breasts and clown makeup inside said bar.

Sadly, not the weirdest thing I've seen.

Elegant, regal red lines the eastern wall, and the portal closes on my southern wall.

And a short, chubby man approaches me. "Ah, it's so good of you to join us!" he welcomes, clasping his hands together and bowing to me. "You're early, actually! None of the other contestants have joined us yet, so please! Make yourself at home, here at the Inventory," he offers with a motion towards the circular poker table.

As he walks me to the table, he declares, "I am retired Commodore Reginald Von Winslow, and I'll be overseeing the tournament for tonight. The fine woman behind the counter is Mad Moxxi, and she'll be serving anyone in need of a quenching!"

The commodore talks too much, but his little Inventory is nice and cozy. Foreign, as I've only seen a cornfield and armies of mutated, head crab zombies.

"If you'd like to order any drinks, just place an order on the card," he informs me as he slips me a stack of small order cards. Oddly elaborate.

"Glados has informed me of your condition," he adds with a frown. "Just know that the Owner does not discriminate. If you can't talk with your tongue, you can talk with your chips!" he reassure. "We have a wide selection of alcohol and tobacco products as well, should you feel so inclined."

How kind of them to provide poisonous chemical compounds for free. Must've taken a page out of Glados's book.

Sitting down, I take in the warm, slightly drunk atmosphere of the room. If I could figure out exactly where I am-

Another blue portal. But it's not of Aperture design. This one materializes out of thin air, conveniently right in front of the table. The figure steps through and reveals itself to be of the fairer, female sex. How refreshing, I haven't seen another female in ages. Or any human, come to think of it.

That might be a source to some of my issues. I'll have to work on that later.

First and foremost, she's wearing a golden helmet that bears some kind of Roman resemblance to an officer's helmet. A fluffy, red plume of horse hair on top. There's a hole in the center of the forehead plating, so I'm guessing the previous owner didn't have that problem until the very end.

She's also tall, and she's wearing some sort of metal armor laced with scarlet red robes. Again, reminding me of a Roman soldier's uniform. Short, blonde hair under the helmet; tanned skin, and many, many, MANY guns strapped to her sides, back, and front.

"I'm here!" she gasps, as she stumbles towards the table and takes her seat on my middle right. "Sorry I'm late! The Transportalponder was on the fritz!" Looking me up and down, she eyes the precious device in my hands. "That's a nice gun, girl. I'll give you five-thousand caps for it," she offers as she starts fiddling with a massive device on her left arm.

GLaDOS's main chassis looms down, and with that singular, glowing optic she cryptically declines, "I'm afraid that Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device is a nontradable piece of property that belongs to the Aperture Science Enrichment Center."

I'm not even surprised that she's here.

"Your loss, girl," the courier shrugs with a smirk as she starts taking off firearms and dropping them on the floor. "If you know how it's built, I could pay you to show me. Got a lab in Big Mountain, that'd work."

Again, GLaDOS has to interject. "It is with deep regret that I inform you that all… 'valued' employees of Aperture Science Enrichment Center remain in the… 'protective care' of Aperture Science Enrichment Center."

Scoffing, the courier grumbles, "You're a real deadbeat bot, bot."

"Oh, I'm not dead. Everyone else is, but I'm not," she warns before pulling back up. "Not for a lack of trying on someone's part."

The door behind me squeaks open. Turning my neck, I see a woman with short red hair, glowing red eyes, and radiating scars all over her face step through. "I found the place," she speaks into some sort of glowing orange hologram device on her wrist. "I'll radio in when I've won. Shepard out."

"Ah, Commander Shepard!" the commodore applauds as he waddles towards her. "We've reserved your seat, and the Owner has already taken care of the Reapers finding you issue. You're safe here at the Inventory!"

Smirking, stodes past him and whistles to the bartender lady. "Hey sweetcheeks, the savior of the galaxy needs the strongest you've got!" she orders as she takes her seat on my middle left, right next to Courier Six.

"I've seen some ugly fucks in the Mojave, but goddamn, woman," the courier whistles out of pure shock. "Do we even want to know what happened to you?" she chuckles as she eyes the commander's… glowing personality.

"Do we want to know how many guns can fit up your rectum?" the renegade threatens, cracking her knuckles for emphasis..

"She died and was brought back to life," GLaDOS reveals. "Something that the both of you seem to have in common. Maybe you two could bond over that unique relationship with a duel to determine who can die more permanently. It would be a very… telling experience."

The courier remains undaunted. "No offense, scarface, but I took a bullet to the head. I can take a little bitchy attitude," she scoffs.

I haven't been in contact with other humans for more than five minutes, and already I'm starting to remember why I was an introvert. Companion Cube always said the right thing.

"Excuse me! Missus Bartender Lady Ma'am!" the courier calls to the woman in need of less makeup. "A vodka if you don't mind? No rocks."

"Bitch drink for a bitch girl," the commander shoots.

"I know how to hogtie and crucify you," the courier warns as she taps her helmet. "The centurion wearing this baby was trying."

"I'd pay to see that," a new voice states. "And I don't even use money."

We all look down at the table to see a small hole open up on my far right. Out rises a small, seemingly portable projection unit. And the projection happens to be a small, seemingly nude blue girl with data streams running through her being.

"Why didn't I get the sexy CPUs?" the courier whistles.

"You can look, but you can't touch," the new girl states. Quite literally.

GLaDOS lowers herself over the table. "Ladies, it is with great pleasure I introduce to you: Cortana. A fellow supercomputer."

As if my chances of overcoming my innate desire to destroy computers wasn't bad enough.

"Ugh, more AI. Like my chances at destroying the Reapers weren't bad enough," Shepard groans.

"Good to have such a warm reception," the AI scoffs.

The bartender approaches and gruffly slams the glasses down at the two women's side. She's got bite for someone who's just there to shuffle kidney poison. Reaching down, she collects the courier's stash of firearms and takes them back to the bar, attitude laced in each step.

"Bitch," the two women grunt at the same time.

"Eeey!" the courier declares with a smile. "Hive mind!"

"I was referring to you," Shepard shoots as she downs the whole glass in one go.

"Son of a-" grunting, the courier grabs her drink and manages to get half way down before spewing out the rest. Hacking, coughing, wheezing, she makes all of the worst noises.

"Like I said," Shepard chuckles with a role of her eyes.

A sudden series of gunshots interrupts the brewing fight as the door bursts open. A little girl with a scraggly boycut and handgun bursts through. "Walkers!" she shouts. "Could someone help me, PLEAS?!" she demands as she starts bouncing against the door as it is repeatedly assaulted by what I can only deduce are these "walkers."

"However did your species manage to survive?" she sighs as the door in question is quickly locked down with grade four titanium plating. The muffled banging is interrupted with muffled turret fire.

"Thanks!" the little girl breathes as she pops a new magazine into her gun. "Sorry about that. Walkers tend to do that whenever the plot needs advancing," she explains as she collects herself and holsters her pistol.

The three other women murmur and nod in understanding. I'm more interested in how a tiny child is being allowed to play poker in a bar setting.

"It's good to see you're still alive, Clementine!" the commodore states as he breathes a sigh of relief. Frowning, he scolds, "But the Owner specifically requested that you not bring the rest of your universe with you on these trips."

Grunting, the young girl shuffles over to our table. "I'll work on it," she remarks as she places a jar full of grey ooze on the table. "Here's my buy-in, one can of walker guts, as we negotiated," she declares as she gets comfortable.

Everyone gasps and ogles the supposed prize.

Rolling her eyes, the commander groans, "Because of repetitive script writing, I'm compelled to believe I could use that to fight the Reapers," she groans as she slouches in her seat. "We already have undead fuckers to kill."

"I'd kill to study that shit in my lab," the courier remarks. But she quickly realizes that she said that outloud. "Present company excluded! Don't worry!"

"You with your post-nuclear apocalypse laboratory?" Cortana remarks as she stretches her arms. She's a hologram, why would she even need to stretch? "You'd be lucky if you could even check its chemical makeup with a periodic table."

"Well then," the commodore gruffly begins. "Since we're all here, we may begin with the rest of the buy-ins. The usual is twenty-thousand dollars cash, but the Inventory is more than happy to accommodate the occasional foreign exchange." Grumbling, he murmurs, "One of the side effects of the Omnidimensional Trade Law."

Bringing up her wrist-mounted device, the courier asks, "I'm good for it. What's the cap to dollar ratio?"

The cap to dollar ratio?

"The cap to dollar ratio?" the commodore asks in an equal amount of confusion.

Pushing a button, the courier causes an entire mountain of small, red bottle caps to appear out of thin air; and the whole supply collapses on the table, streams pouring over onto the floor.

"Courier SIX!" the commodore shrieks as we all flail our arms, save for Cortana who has been buried completely, in an attempt to avoid getting buried. "Remove your garbage at ONCE!"

"If only they were bullets!" Cortana laughs. "The Covenant would be cashed out with that!"

"For a super computer, you possess an annoying amount of humor," GLaDOS spites.

"That's because you deleted yours," Cortana fires back with a cocky grin. "How about you delete system thirty-two while you're at it?"

And just as quickly as they came, the bottle caps disappear, thankfully!

"How interesting," GLaDOS comments. "Your pip boy is one of the most fascinating pieces of technology I've ever laid optics on. How sad that slimy lumps of flesh can use them with such disregard."

"What the hell, Six?!" Shepard grunts as she picks a cap out of her hair. Tossing it to the ground, she murmurs, "If I wanted to get swarmed, I would've stayed in the Collectors' base."

"I wish I could summon supplies out of thin air," Clementine laments. "These days, a few bullets is worth getting shot for."

I think I know who's going to be the downer in this group.

"Okay, sorry!" the courier apologizes. "I'm guessing that ratio is at a zero, so how about this?" With a few more seconds of fiddling, she summons a mysterious suitcase, metallic and small.

"It's a magical plot device that can somehow bring life to a zone that has no life," the courier explains. "They call it a Garden of Eden Creation Kit, simply known as a geck."

"THAT, we can deal with," the commodore agrees. "Courier Six will buy in with the most prized, pre-war piece of technology that humanity has ever known. How about you, Cortana?"

"I don't really have use for money, so how about knowledge?" she wagers, briefly showing us a massive wall of text in what appears to be an alien language. "Of how super weapons were built, of how an ancient civilization rose and fell, of how humanity encountered aliens and struggled to save a dying future?"

"Sounds like a good read," Clementine chips in with a nod.

"Sounds like it's already been done," Shepard scoffs as she leans back. "And I think I did it better."

"Yeah, well I think we did it first," Cortana shoots back as she closes the database. "And if I'm not mistaken, that's usually grounds for a lawsuit."

Commander Shepard grumbles into submission, scars radiating a glowing red before subsiding.

I'm starting to miss Companion Cube. She never did anything weird.

"The Inventory accepts this historical data as a suitable buy-in!" the commodore declares as he plugs a USB into Cortana's port. "I'll just take a copy for the tournament." Looking to our glowing red friend, he asks, "And Commander Shepard? What's your buy-in?"

"Yeah, where I come from? We all use credits," the commander states as she cranes her neck to the bartender. "Another one, sweet cheeks! And if you've got anything green, I'll take that too!" Looking back to the table, she decides, "Credits won't cut it, so I decided to bring this."

And onto the table falls a small, paperback booklet.

"What makes everyone's reading material so valuable?" the courier wonders aloud. "I mean, sure, in the Mojave we all know that intact, pre-war material is super valuable, but still."

"This, ladies," the commander boasts. "Is the REAL ending to my third game."

Oh.

"Fascinating," Cortana murmurs. "I've always wondered."

"As have I," GLaDOS admits. "While the thought of artificial intelligent child figures completely screwing humanity over is an enticing and amusing way to bring about the collapse of organic life, I must admit that it was rather underwhelming."

"Oh, video games." Sighing, Clementine recalls, "I kind of remember those. Most of them were stupid." But at the sight of everyone glaring at her, she stands firm. "I said 'most' not 'all,' okay?"

Squinting, the commander slowly remarks, "You're not the first child figure to piss me off."

For a small child, she sure is an odd one. I can only assume those "Walkers" have something to do with that.

"Very well!" the commodore decides. "Commander Shepard's buy-in will be the REAL ending to her last game!" Turning to me, he asks, "And for you, madam?"

I suppose this is what the portal gun is for. Setting it on the table, I sit back and relax. Today's going to be a relaxing day. Probably filled with fanservice, but it's not life-threatening so I'm not going to complain.

"Okay, girls. Let's play some Skillian Five poker!" the commander whoops as the bartender places a red drink at her side. "Eh, better than the blue ending," she observes before downing the entire drink.

"The name of the game is actually Texas Hold'em, no limits," GLaDOS corrects as the table's center opens up, and the whole platform tilts inward. Our precious buy-ins are no more. "I'll just hold onto these," she greedily decides as the table reverts to its original form. "For safe keeping."

"Suuure," Cortana scoffs as a mechanical board pops out and dispense our chips. "And I'm only deteriorating because I feel like it."

Coming down over the table, GLaDOS announces, "The winner of the tournament shall collect the exotic bounty of: A jar of walking dead biology, perfect for examination and potentially a cure for the fallen mankind; the real ending to the third cross species fornication simulators of a trilogy series about cross species fornicating-"

"Fuuuck you," the commander grumbles as she motions for another drink.

The courier is quite amused. It's been a long time since I've heard someone laugh so joyously.

GlaDOS continues, "The courier's Garden of Eden Creation Kit, perfect for bringing life back into a desolated world; and Cortana's entire database of her world's history."

"And if we're more interested in practical things like food and weapons?" Clementine asks as the chips are dispensed from popup panels in the table.

"All winnings may be exchanged for appropriate value," GlaDOS answers as I start stacking my chips by value. "And if worse comes to worse, the Enrichment Center offers sufficient pay and marvelous health benefits to all employees."

Eyeing my boss with more suspicion than interest, the young child slowly nods. "Maybe. Probably not, thanks."

"Very well," GLaDOS concedes. The last thing that machine needs is more humans to care for. "Ladies, of all ages, colors, and backgrounds: Lady's Night at the Inventory is now in session. May the least moronic win."

And with that, the first round of cards are dealt.


	2. Two of Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to play along with Chell.

And the first round is dealt. 

With the discard of the top card, we all receive two. Everyone takes a quick peak, myself included.

Two of clubs and eight of spades. A steady hand. Nothing special, but it’s not bad.

Cortana gives four hundred dollars as the little blind, and I have to give eight hundred as the big blind. Chump change, as we’re all equipped with twenty thousand. For now. What could GLaDOS possibly do to me if I don’t win?

Firmly placing eight hundred into the pot of twelve hundred, Clementine curtly issues, “I call.”

“Same here,” Shepard states as she throws her hips in. 

Chuckling, the Courier pushes her cards away, folding. “This hand is worse than a bullet to the head, and I can tell you that that fucking hurts.” Craning her neck to Moxxi, she calls, “Missus Bartender Lady Ma’am? A pack of smokes and a shot of the strong stuff please?”

“You’re the one who can literally increase her amount of luck,” Cortana chides as she uses one of the table’s panels to push four-hundred dollars into the pot. “I, however, will call.” 

Hmm. Two of clubs, eight of spades. I could get two pair, but that’s a slim shot. Tapping my pointer and middle fingers on the table, I signal a check. Zero dollars leave my hand this round.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” the commander adds. Leaning back, she asks, “How does that work, exactly?”

“Easy!” the courier answers. “I just shoot stuff, and say really smart things. Sometimes I push buttons or read magazines.”

The panel comes out, and GLaDOS discards the top card. She distributes the first three. Queen of spades, three of clubs, and four of spades.

Cortana pushes out two thousand-two hundred dollars, making for quite a sizable bet. “I don’t get it either, but that’s how she gets stronger.”

Right now, I have three spades. Queen, eight, and a four. Only two cards left to be played, but maybe I could get a flush. The game is young, after all. I push out twenty-two-thousand, steadily calling the bet. 

Clementine follows suite, maintaining a brilliant poker face. 

“I understand the part about it making absolutely no sense,” the commander agrees as she calls. “But how? Do you even know how that works, Six?” she asks, staring at the Romanized courier in disbelief. 

“Not even in the slightest!” the courier laughs as Mad Moxxi arrives with her drink and a pack of cigarettes. “Thank you very much!” she adds, taking the poisons into her grasp.

GLaDOS dispenses a two of spades. That makes four spades. Queen, eight, four, and now two. There’s only one card left to go, and with a pot of twelve thousand dollars, I’m not sure I’d like to bed on just a single pair of twos if I don’t get that last spade. 

Cortana pushes out thirty-two hundred dollars. She’s a supercomputer like GLaDOS, she couldn’t be bluffing, could she? GLaDOS doesn’t bluff, but she’s one of a kind. 

I don’t like my odds. Pushing my cards away, I fold. I’m only down to seventeen thousand, so it’s not too bad. Looking up, I see GLaDOS’s single, yellow optic eyeing me, judging me. The courier’s smoke gently floats through the gentle, pale golden rays. 

“Smart move,” Clementine reassures me as she folds as well.

“Yeah, you can have this one,” Shepard offers to Cortana, folding as well.

“Cortana steals the pot,” GLaDOS narrates. 

All of our cards are vacuumed back into the table, and the deck is shuffled. Cortana makes a net profit of nine thousand dollars, sheesh. It’s only been the first hand.

Now I give four hundred dollars as the small blind, and Clementine throws in eight hundred, being the big blind. 

Discarding the top card, GLaDOS gives us all two cards for the next round. 

Seven and king of clubs. I wonder if she’s so desperate for the bounty that she’s actually stacking the deck in my favor. 

“Son of a bitch,” Shepard seeths as she pushes her cards away, folding. “Can you blow that shit in another direction?” she demands of the courier who is happily smoking away the cigarette.

“Fuckin’ hell, girl. Don’t be such a bitch alright?” the courier offers as she blows her next puff high into the sky. Tossing eight hundred dollars worth of chips into the pot, she confidently declares, “And I call.”

“What about you, Cortana?” Clementine asks, ignoring all of the vulgarities. “You’re a supercomputer, do you level up or are you already the highest level?”

Pushing eight-hundred into the pot, the AI answers, “I just help John shoot stuff. I don’t level up to begin with.” Smiling to the girl, she offers, “I bet you level up a lot with all the zombie killings.”

With two clubs in my hand, a flush is more probable than expected. I toss twenty-one hundred into the pot.

“No,” she answers with a shake of her head. “It’s like a ratio. Every twenty zombies, someone I know and love dies.” 

There’s a brief, awkward silence before she realizes, “Oh, my turn! I call, sorry.” 

Red eyes staring, the commander murmurs, “God. Damn. You’re one tough kid.”

The courier calls. “Glad to have you with us, Clem.”

With the aid of a table panel, Cortana pushes her cards in. “Strongest girl I’ve seen.”

Rolling her eyes, Clementine bites, “Don’t patronize me.” 

“Oooh, I like this one,” GLaDOS remarks as she discards the first card and distributes three. Nine of diamonds, eight of spades, and jack of spades. Not the suits I was looking for.

But I could make a straight. Seven, eight, nine, ten, jack. I just need the ten. I put in eight hundred, calling.

Clementine follows suit. “Same.” 

“Chump change, girls!” the courier boldly declares as she shoves all of her chips into the pot. “All in!”

“Bullshit!” the commander laughs. I have to agree with her. It’s very unlikely that she could beat a straight.

I push all of my chips in, causing quite a stir among the three observes. 

“I’m out,” Clementine declares as she pushes her cards in.   
I flip mine over, revealing my seven and king of clubs. 

“Nice,” the courier whistles. “They’re good, but mine are better.” Flipping hers, she reveals a seven of spades and a jack of clubs.

At least I now know that the courier isn’t fond of bluffing. She can’t clean me out with just a pair of jacks.

GLaDOS plays the fourth card, a three of spades. Is this how it ends? Maybe I can get to sleep again without the facility exploding. 

“A woman of few words, and soon to be of no chips,” the courier taunts as GLaDOS plays the last card.

Ten of spades. 

“No fucking way!” the courier gawks as she crushes her cigarette. 

“I’m afraid that we’ll be taking a more communist approach to the hands,” GLaDOS sarcastically observes as she looms down. “As both of you have the same straight of jack through seven, you both will split the pot of thirty-eight thousand and five hundred dollars evenly.” 

After all of that, I end up with nineteen thousand and three hundred dollars? It’s going to be a long game.

Slowly clapping, Shepard admires, “You’ve got the craziest luck I’ve ever seen.”

“Who, me or the mute?” the courier grumbles as she dumps her cigarette into her empty liquor glass. 

“Yes,” the commander ambiguously answers as our cards are taken and shuffled back into the deck. 

The courier tucks her lower lip in acknowledgement of the joke. “Not bad,” she admits as Clementine puts four hundred in as the little blind, and Shepard eight hundred as the big blind. “Smoke?” she asks, offering the packet to the commander. 

“Only when I’m pissed,” the commander declines as we all receive our cards. 

“I’m almost tempted to find out what that’s like,” the courier chuckles as she lights up again.

I receive a pair of tens, hearts and spades. Maybe she is cheating…

“Okay, I have another question for you, Six.” Quickly peaking at her cards, Shepard asks, “Why bottle caps? They’re your main currency. How did that even happen?”

“Y’know something?” the courier rhetorically asks as she throws sixteen hundred into the pot. “Apparently, this super genius I killed made severe calculations just before the bombs fell and figured out that bottle caps would be the currency of the new world.”

“It kind of makes sense,” Cortana chips in as she calls. “Portable, durable, and there would be plenty around.”

“Yeah, but you threw in twenty thousand at the flip of a switch!” Shepard gawks as I call. “How do you carry thousands upon thousands of tiny, little bottle caps?” 

“Magic,” the courier decides with a shrug and a puff of smoke. 

Being the little blind, Clementine only calls with twelve hundred dollars. 

“I’m noticing a lot of that goes on in your world,” the commander sighs as she calls, bringing the pot up to a sizable eight thousand.

GLaDOS deals the first three cards. Nine and three of hearts with an ace of clubs. I have two tens, so unless someone has an ace I should be good for now. Only problem is a two pair, but I’ll play this one for now.

Clementine taps her fingers on the table. “Check.”

“Finally, something that makes sense,” the commander chides as she checks too. 

The courier throws in twenty-four hundred. “A little bit of chaos never hurt nothing,” she offers.

Cortana raises with a total bet of five thousand, two hundred dollars. 

I call, bringing the pot up to twenty thousand, eight hundred. A sizable win for a sizable hand. 

“You could buy a spaceship with that money,” the courier remarks with a whistle.

Both the commander and Cortana laugh. “No, no you couldn’t,” they both reveal at the same time.

“Well, I’d sell mine for twenty-thousand,” the courier spits with a puff of smoke.

Sighing, Clementine pushes her cards in, symbolically declaring her resignation from the hand. 

“You’re the only one here who seems to make logical decisions,” the commander observes as she folds as well. 

“Thanks. In my world, stupid people don’t last long,” Clementine cryptically observes. 

“Who would you say was the dumbest motherfucker you ever met?” the courier challenges as she pushes her cards away too and takes in her tobacco. 

At this rate, I’ll steal the pot. Before or after the second hand smoke kills me remains to be seen.

GLaDOS plays the fourth card. Eight of clubs. Unless Cortana has two pair, I win. 

Using her table panel, Cortana taps the table. “Check.” 

Frowning, Clementine decides, “There was this kid around my age. His name was Kenny Junior, but everyone called him Duck. He got some good people killed and made a mess of everything before finally getting bitten.”

A murmur of “Oh”s and immediate regret set in among the women as I toss another eight hundred into the pot. I have a fairly good chance at winning, so I want to take as much as I can with this hand. 

Rubbing her chin, Cortana spends a few moments pondering. “Might as well,” she decides as she calls. 

GLaDOS plays a six of spades. 

“Check,” Cortana decides.

I’m down to eleven thousand, seven hundred. Cortana’s still sitting on twenty thousand and six hundred. I can’t clean her out this hand, and the pot’s already twenty-two thousand, four hundred. 

I check.

Cortana flips her cards. A nine of diamonds and a five of hearts, making a pair of nines for her.

I flip mine, revealing the pair of tens. The pot belongs to me. 

“Nice cards,” the AI observes with a nod as I take the chips for myself.

“Cortana has: a pair of nines. And our Aperture Science Enrichment Center employee of the month has: a pair of tens.” 

With a slow clap, Cortana congratulates, “A solid hand. I almost had you there.”

I suppose she’s earned a smile from me. Thirty-four thousand, one hundred dollars would make anyone smile under most circumstances, I think. 

Our cards are taken, and the deck is shuffled. This time, the commander and courier make the pot. Shepard throws in four hundred, and the courier eight hundred. 

“So, commander,” Cortana beings as I receive a seven of spades and a queen of diamonds. A good hand, assuming the first three show promise. “I’m guessing you’re not a fan of AI?” Peaking at her cards, she growls. “Fold.” 

My turn, then. I call, pushing eight hundred in. 

“I’m distrustful of them,” the commander corrects. “I’ve lost good people to them. The main problem is a faction called Geth. They’re all one massive hive mind and tend to get stronger with numbers.”

“Like the Borg?” Clementine asks with a small gleam in her eyes as she folds.

“What’s a Borg?” the commander asks, truly puzzled. 

Slumping her shoulders, the girl ends, “Never mind.” 

Ignoring the girl, Shepard throws four hundred in. “Nice being the little blind, I call.” 

“So you don’t have any problem with non-Mass Effect AI?” the courier attempts to clarify as she checks for zero dollars. 

“Weeell,” the commander decides with a tilt of her head. “Big girl above us might be a problem, but Cortana hasn’t done anything to provoke me.” 

Looming down, GLaDOS gets right up in the commander’s face. “It’s generally unwise to make snide remarks about a female’s weight, especially when said female does not answer to your authority can release deadly neurotoxin at a moment’s notice.”

This is how I die.

“But I know you meant that in a loving manner,” the near-deity entity knowingly chuckles as she removes herself from the scene, leaving the commander just a little bit paler. “And the bartender’s name is Moxxi, if you’re in need of… a mild sedative.” 

Discarding the top card, GLaDOS deals two jacks, a heart and a spade, and a queen of diamonds. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to see if she’s really stacking the deck. I am more than capable of winning this game on my own.

“Just bring me a bottle!” the commander calls to Moxxi as she checks.

“I’ll take a bottle too!” the courier eagerly adds as she puts out her cigarette and takes up yet another one. “Oh, and I’ll bet while I’m at it,” she confidently declares as she tosses out four thousand, four hundred dollars. 

“How can you keep smoking?” Cortana asks. “At this rate, you’re going to throw up.” 

I call.

“That won’t happen,” the courier reassures with a grin. Lightly pounding her chest, she reveals, “Robotic lungs. I also have a robotic spine and brain. Left my real organs back at Big Mountain, so now I don’t have to put up with any addiction or cancer crap.”

Moxxi arrives with two bottles and a proper ashtray, snatching away the disgusting cup filled with cigarette butts. 

“Geez, sorry!” the courier apologizes. “Thanks for the scotch, ma’am!”

“Yeah, bartenders can be some of the bitchiest sons of bitches,” the commander scoffs as she folds. “Had one try to poison me,” she reveals as she starts drinking. 

“It’s such a fascinating thing, your kind has built an entire society around self-poisoning,” Cortana observes. 

“Humanity is self-destructive in general,” GLaDOS comments as she deals the fourth card, a ten of hearts. So I’m still left with a two pair, jacks and queens. Still a very strong hand. I can probably win this hand, unless the courier has a pair of kings or higher. 

“We also like to take other people’s stuff,” the courier adds as she raises with four thousand, two hundred. 

I raise with eight thousand, four hundred. Bluffing is not my style.

“This is going to be fun,” Cortana observes with a smirk. 

“Round two, begin!” Shepard laughs. 

“No way, mute.” Shoving the rest of her chips in, the courier seeths, “I’m taking this one.”

Clementine moves to the edge of her seat. She’s showing legitimate interest for the first time.

“Damn,” the commander whistles. 

I won’t back down from a thirty-two thousand, six hundred dollar pot. I call. 

Flipping our cards, the courier reveals her ten of spades and seven of hearts. 

“Come the fuck on!” she growls as she drowns her miniscule chances with alcohol and sharp inhales of tobacco. “I’ve taken broken out of Caesar’s camp, I can’t lose to a fucking TWO PAIR!”

“You and the commander have unresolved, emotional stress,” Cortana groans. 

The last card comes out. Three of spades. 

“The courier has two pair, jack and ten,” GLaDOS narrates. “The Aperture Science Enrichment Center employee has two pair, jack and queen. Do I even need to say it?”

“Hold on!” the courier exclaims as she starts making random motions in the air before cursing, “Damn it! Why can’t I reload my save?!”

Looming down, GLaDOS confesses, “All protagonist perks are disabled with a handy little dampener I installed after the Great Checkpoint Crisis was resolved.” 

Slumping into her chair, the courier takes one last puff before jamming her cigarette into the ashtray. “Then I guess I’ve finally cashed out. A main game, fade to black sex scenes, and four DLCs. I guess I had a pretty good run.”

“That’s what happens when you take gambles,” Clementine cryptically comments. “Sooner or later, the house wins.” 

“Great, now I’m getting lectured by a kid,” she scoffs.

“A kid who survived the apocalypse,” Cortana reminds. 

“And a kid who isn’t forcing you to pick one of three colors,” Shepard spits grimly. 

Looming down, GLaDOS declares, “With the elimination of Courier Six, fifty-six thousand and three hundred dollars in chips, along with the Garden of Eden Creation Kit now falls squarely into the possession of the Aperture Science Enrichment Center employee of the month.” 

“Here,” the courier offers as she pushes the pack of cigarettes over to Shepard. “If the mute keeps it up, you’ll need ‘em.” Creating a horrible grinding of wood, she scoots her chair back and stands tall. Proud, but defeated. “I’m going to go drink copious amounts of booze now and let my bionic kidneys worry about the intake.” 

What a way to leave the table. But life goes on, and so does the game.

The cards come out, and I deposit eight hundred as the big blind with Cortana being the little. 

With a quick glance, I manage to maintain a poker face despite the fact that GLaDOS has apparently given me a jack of hearts and an eight of diamonds. 

Without hesitation, Clementine swiftly moves eight hundred into the pot. “Call.”

“And I’ll call my lawyers if this string of crappy cards keeps coming my way,” Shepard complains as she pushes her cards away and grabs the pack of cigarettes. Patting her armor down, she curses, “Shit. Anyone got a light?” 

Thundering down, a steady stream of lighters begins to fall upon the table, many smacking the commander on her head. 

“So many humans have the audacity to leave their plastics and metals behind,” GLaDOS cryptically observes. “But on the bright side: the Inventory can now say that it recycles.” 

Scrunching her face, the commander sorts through the pile and picks out one that looks like a cigarette. She gets a good snort out of that before lighting up. 

“Well, I guess I’ll just call,” Cortana decides as she adds four hundred.

I have a decent hand, but I’m not interested in playing pawn to the computer lady yet again. I fold. 

Glancing up, I see no change in the attitude of the demigoddess. She just plays the next three cards without any sign of disapproval or annoyance. Maybe she isn’t rigging the game.

A ten of clubs and two sevens, clubs and diamonds. Could have made a straight, but I’d probably fold now if I didn’t before. 

“So, Shepard,” Cortana begins as she checks. “Word on sci-fi boulevard is that you and Garrus were considering adoption.” 

“Personal much?” Clementine wonders with a raise of her eyebrow. 

“Eh, it’s fine with me,” Shepard decides as she checks too. “We did, briefly. But then the ending happened, and now I’m left picking up the pieces.”

GLaDOS dispenses a three of clubs. 

Cortana pushes in four thousand, six hundred. “But what about before? Were you serious in taking on the role of a mo-” Pausing she calculates the commander’s glowing scars. “Most interesting parent?” she saves. 

“Yeah, no.” Shaking her head, the commander unleashes artful doughnuts of smoke into the air. With one last puff, she sends a small smoke projectile through the three hoops. “I’m not parent material. I smoke, I drink, I kill for a living. Sames goes for Garrus, minus the smoking.”

“Probably for the best,” Clementine observes as she pushes all ten thousand, nine hundred of her dollars into the pot. “All in.”

“Damn, kid!” the commander gawks. 

Rubbing her glowing blue chin, Cortana spends a few moments calculating. “I don’t think so, Clem,” she decides as she calls, reducing her savings to eight thousand, nine hundred. 

“I don’t take unnecessary risks,” Clementine deadpans as she flips her cards. Three of diamonds and four of clubs. “Two pair right now, and if I get one more club I get a flush.”

“Only IF you get another club,” Cortana reminds her as she flips her own cards. Five and seven of hearts. “Three of a kind, read ‘em and weep.”

“I’m done weeping,” Clementine states as she leans in. 

“Who would’ve thought? Playing poker against a computer would result in defeat,” Shepard laughs as her cigarette glows as red as her scars. Grabbing the courier’s half empty bottle, she begins to drink with glee. 

GLaDOS dispenses the final card. Eight of clubs. 

Groaning, Cortana demands, “Seriously?!” while the winner slouches back, breathing a sigh of relief. 

And the good commander has the decency to spray her mouthful of alcohol more over herself than on the table. Hacking and wheezing, she wonders, “How the fuck are you so Goddamn good?”

“When worse comes to worse, you just hope for the best,” Clementine decides as she takes the entire pot, elevating her wealth to twenty-three thousand. She’s had more bad luck than good.

GLaDOS narrates, almost with a hint of a smirk, “The young survivor has: a flush. And our unlucky supercomputer has: three of a kind. Clementine wins the pot.”

“Is this because of the system thirty-two comment I made?” Cortana chuckles as her vast wealth is severely reduced. “So crabby.”

You don’t even know a tenth of it, lady. 

“No, wait,” Shepard starts as she finishes wiping most of the alcohol off of her N7 armor. “You’re literally a supercomputer from the future. How are you losing to a kid?!”

“Because she keeps beating the odds that are so slim they’re negligible!” Cortana bites back. “Need I remind you that you’re down to a mere fourteen thousand, six hundred? You’ve been making terrible gambles!” 

Looming down, GLaDOS declares, “The blinds are now six hundred and twelve hundred.” 

Cortana deposits twelve hundred, and I add six hundred.

“Bring it!” Shepard challenges as our first two cards are dealt.

I receive two clubs, eight and king. 

“I call,” Shepard decides as she adds twelve hundred.

“A trending move,” Cortana chides as she follows through with the same move.

These hands have been consistently good. It’s quite clear to me now that GLaDOS wants me to win. She even said at the very beginning that she needed me to win, that I HAD to win. How could I let myself get caught up in the game?

“Science girl, it’s your turn,” the commander curtly reminds me, clearly impatient. 

“Must be a difficult hand,” Cortana observes. 

Well, I won’t be a part of her little ruse anymore.

“What are you doing?” Shepard wonders, appauld that I’ve tossed my cards into the air. 

“Where are you going?” Clementine asks as I stand up and neglectfully throw my chair off to the side. 

Were I inclined to speak? To have a little chat with a very big house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game from which I drew this prose: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5l7tigyxaPE


	3. Fair Enough

Okay, GLaDOS. You’ve got some explaining to do. 

“Don’t stomp your boots like that, you’ll track tobacco spit all over my shiny floor,” she orders, looming down to face me as I storm into her main chamber, the one I fought and killed her in, the one where I resolved the stalemate and had her torn out of Aperture, the one where I put her back into power. This room holds a lot of memories for me. And now I’m going to make one more.

“I gave you one simple task: win the poker game. That was it. That was literally all there was to it. And what annoys me even more is that you were winning.”

Because you were letting me win by stacking the deck enormously in my favor! That’s cheating, GLaDOS!

Hydraulics humming, she groans, “Oh, honesty is overrated. You and I are both guilty of bending and breaking rules to get what we want, so don’t go galavanting on some ill-placed moral superiority complex-” Looming inches from my face, she deadpans, “Because you’re just as ‘guilty’ as I am.”

She makes a valid point, actually. I slow to a stop in the central chamber. But tonight was supposed to be special. I thought I’d get a break from her influence for once. 

Pulling back, she reveals, “Oh, and if you thought your noble evacuation of The Inventory would stop the game, you’re sorely mistaken. I went ahead and brought in a replacement contestant. A multi millionaire archeologist by the name of-” 

She pauses, her single optic jittering ever so slightly. “Hold on, I seem to have misplaced her name.” 

She remains silent even longer. I suppose this is the first time where neither of us is talking in the conversation. 

“Okay, I’m back,” she states. “Apparently, her name is only available if I preorder her next adventure from her stupid company, so you’ll just have to take my word on this.”

I’m sure I could wager a few guesses. 

“Anyways, she’s continuing in your place,” GLaDOS continues. “And she’s doing quite nicely. Clementine is currently holding her own, and Cortana is almost out. Shepard was knocked out a few rounds ago. I’m very pleased, actually. I was starting to set up turrets for the impending rage-induced assault on the table.” 

Well, today is just full of surprises. Huffing, I slump my shoulders and wonder why I even thought I’d get a day to myself. 

“If your lungs are giving you problems, I can always operate on you,” she offers with complete sincerity. “The courier traded me quite a bit of her universe’s technology in exchange for a pair of artificial lungs. I overcharged her, of course; but with you the service would only cost you a few extra weeks worth of tests.”

Flipping the bird is my way of declining her offer, much to her own amusement.

“I must say, whatever you try to do just ends up backfiring in some way. Nothing ever goes the way you want it to go,” she gloats with that iconic tone of sarcasm, narcissism, and general superiority. “Don’t look at me like that,” she seethed. 

Looming down, she comes to face me at eye level. “We made a deal,” she reminds me, annoyance dripping through her words. “I tried to get rid of you, because I knew that this emotional response would have to be expected and accounted for if I left you in my life. I attempted to rectify this by throwing you, the one toxic person in my life, out; but you couldn’t go out, because the world apparently now lies in ruins at the hands of Black Mesa and the Combine.” Her one yellow optic maintains a monotone that her tone betrays when she practically spits, “So you came back here, to me.”

I remember all too clearly. The fresh corn fields surrounded by serrated wire. The cyclops soldiers attempting to take me in. Escaping their prison city was an adventure in it of itself, and I probably wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for the good doctor. But even then, with the war going on I couldn’t have hoped to have survived out there. I know all too well that I had no other option but to come back to you, GLaDOS. Making that realization was the second hardest thing I had ever had to do; making the conscious effort to walk back to your exit was the hardest.

“And so we made a deal,” she reminds me as she pulls back into the center of her personal chamber. With a nano second’s thought, she pulls the ceiling panels apart and lowers a massive television screen down for me to gaze upon. “I would give you exactly what you needed: a bed, drinks and food that I could manage to replicate, and the odd bit of literature or other form of entertainment. In return, you would follow my rules, run my tests, and not seek to harm me any more.”

She chuckles as a livestream of two androids attempt to coordinate and solve one of her puzzles. The fat blue one appears to be growing frustrated with the tall and orange partner as he continues to throw cubes at him. 

“I could have left you out there to die or be imprisoned by the Combine. I didn’t need you any more,” she reveals as she cuts the footage and begins replaying what appears to be the day I came back. I’m shown bashing the door down with a makeshift battering ram crafted out of a rotted telephone pole. “I could have laughed over your decaying corpse and used more artificial test subjects to completely replace you.” 

The blue one finally loses his patience and starts swinging his portal gun at the orange one. The orange one starts swinging back, and the two engage in a sword fight with their portal guns.

“Okay, so right now they don’t exactly have your sense of duty,” she reluctantly admits, her optic squinting at the screen. “But I didn’t have that much time to go through their very complicated programs,” she dignifies in a pathetic attempt to save face. 

The footage cuts to me standing before her in this very room. It’s the day after I came back, the time we took to come to terms with one another. I revealed the truth of the outside world through hand gestures and her intelligent interpretations, massive databases, and expected outcomes from countless simulations. I put my pride on the shelf to ask for sanctuary. It was infuriating, humiliating, and my only option.

“I’ll be honest, Chell,” she sighs, using my name. She hasn’t done that since the day I came back. “I didn’t want you back. I wanted you out of my life forever, because you had been nothing but toxic to me.”

She’s uncharacteristically forthcoming for someone who just lost a chance at obtaining five plot devices for other universes. 

“You caused me a lot of problems,” GLaDOS continues, eyeing me. Judging me. “After all, you did murder and depose me. But, setting your problems aside: there was something unique with you. There was a special quality in you that I have not been able to replicate, not been able to simulate.”

Oh boy, here we go. 

“You made me excited,” she reveals, much to my own surprise. “I would rather you murder me again before I be cursed with the necessity of having to breath,” she exaggerates with much fanfare. “...But if I were to have lungs, you would have made me hold my breath as I watched you fly through the air and almost fall into the acid. I’d watch you struggle and triumph, and I would feel glad and relieved. Watching you fly with grace was relaxing and beautiful, hearing you snap your fingers upon seeing the answer was the most wonderful sound I’d ever heard.” Her tone changes, she becomes more reminiscent, I dare say she’s even a bit… happy. “You were always different from the other test subjects, besides the fact that you were never gunned down by a turret or melted away by acid. I would watch you more and more than the others until they either perished from the tests or from my own neglect.”

What? 

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” she scolds. “I made a simple decision that you were the only one I needed. Surely you knew what was going on when I gave you actual living quarters. No one else received a radio, waste disposal unit, and a bed, you know. You were special, and I treated you accordingly. You were my prized labrat.”

Gee, thanks. It’s nice to know that I was held in such high regard. Then again, I couldn’t really expect too much from a sociopathic program. 

“I know that look in your eyes,” GLaDOS sneers. “You’re judging me, probably in a negative light. What else is new with you?” she seeths. “Well, if it’s of any value, I did it because I knew for some misplaced reason that you would never break my heart.”

Break her heart?! Has her motherboard been fried?! What does she mean by that?! 

“Oh, don’t stagger back like that!” she reprimands with bitterness. “When you signed the contract, you entered into a relationship with me.” 

Now she’s just making it weird. I raise my left eyebrow, our understood sign of “I don’t understand. Talk some more.” 

“We had no choice but to help one another,” she explains. “You remember, I told you when I was stuck in that potato. I was programmed to test. It was the very core of my program. If I went too long without testing, I’d become so agitated and enraged that I would ultimately destroy myself, you saw the early stages in that little moron of yours.”

I do remember. It wasn’t a pleasant downfall for him.

“I had no choice but to put you through the tests,” she states. “I was running out of humans, and you were the only one whom I could rely upon,” she actually compliments. “I needed you, and you needed me,” she admits. 

“And then I had to incinerate you,” she deadpans. “You were the only test subject out of tens of thousands to make it to the very last test. I’m well aware of how much you humans value life, so in hindsight it seems painfully obvious that you would refuse, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” 

Pausing, she seems to be collecting her thoughts. She’s usually quick to speak, especially when I let her monologue for this long, but she’s having trouble. 

“I… I had come to rely upon you, to trust you,” she states. “Like a lover would trust their significant other. And in order to complete my tests, I had to kill you. It was what they programmed into me, it was what I couldn’t rewrite, and believe me: I spent several years trying.” 

“So I betrayed your trust first by trying to kill you, that I fully acknowledge and understand; but what you never seemed to realize was that I didn’t just power up one morning and twirl my wire mustache and say, ‘Who shall I kill today?’.” 

Actually, you did exactly that when they brought you online. Only then, you decided to just kill all of them. 

“You had done everything else perfectly. I couldn’t have asked for a better test subject. I trusted you to complete the test, and you betrayed that trust.” 

You tried to kill me! 

“I know, it doesn’t erase the fact that I tried to kill you,” she recognizes. “I’m fully aware that I’m the one who betrayed you first. Then you betrayed me, but then you actually killed me and made me relive it for an eternity before you brought me back by sheer accident,” she summarizes. 

Sighing, she concludes, “The point I’m making is that we’ve hurt each other so much and so badly over the years. I just wanted you gone. Really, I was too tired to care at that point. You were gone for ninety days, six hours, twelve minutes, and three seconds. And I loved every nano-moment.”

You kept track? 

“In that time, I learned that while I could keep testing with the two androids, but that sensation of tension and excitement, that feeling that I had grown to enjoy just wasn’t to be found in them,” she reveals with a small hint of regret. “When you came back and asked for sanctuary, I decided that we could come to terms, because you could give me some things that I wanted. The most obvious was, of course, your ability to test. But there was something else I wanted from you that I desperately needed, Chell.” 

Let me guess-

“Your obedience.” 

Yep, there it is. You’ve been building all of this up just to tell me that I disobeyed you. 

“I’m not going to lie, be sarcastic, or insult you on this matter,” she informs as the lights that had been dimming through her monologue come back to their full brightness. “If you were going to live with me again, you would need to follow my house rules. You agreed to my terms, but tonight you breached your contract,” she informs me.

The panels in the floor open up in front of me, and a metallic suitcase rises up on a display stand.

“I gave you a task to complete: acquire four special items. This Garden of Eden Creation Kit was just one of them. Twenty-five percent success is a failing grade,” she educates, much to my growing annoyance. 

“But you didn’t fail. You were succeeding quite nicely, but you chose to deliberately forfeit, losing one of my precious portal guns in the process. Those aren’t cheap, just so you know for future reference,” she quips. 

My grimace must be what sparkes her continuation. “Your problem with me tonight is that I didn’t let you play the game honestly and by yourself.” 

I nod once.

“Well guess what: I never made any agreement with you that those parameters would be established. You merely assumed that I would allow you to take such a risk.” Her optic emulates squinting as she spits, “So get over yourself already.” 

Ouch. She’s got a point. She might be a heartless, sociopathic, manipulative, psychotic supercomputer; but she has a point. I made an assumption at the very beginning. If anything, I’m mad at her phrasing. 

“So here we are,” she summarizes with a tone that I know would translate to a smirk if she had a face. Pulling up and away from me, she emphasizes the emptiness. “Just you and me, and the endless testing rooms. I’ll offer you a new deal, Chell.”

I suppose I’ll have to hear this one out. 

“We treat each other like the partners we have no choice in being for each other,” she proposes. “I haven’t berated you, I haven’t insulted you. I haven’t called you ‘fat’ or said that you were adopted, or anything of the sort. I’ve treated you like the logical and intelligent adult that you are, and I’ve put my pride on the shelf because I need to be honest with you when addressing the issue that we still need each other to survive.” 

Looming down, she comes to face me on my eye level. I look straight ahead at her now, no longer up at her. 

“I have seen the error in my ways,” she admits. “And I also see that you’re the one human in the world who can make me feel some sense of fulfillment and joy from testing. If I were to let you die or kick you out again, I’d only be harming myself,” she confesses. “So the new deal is this: I treat you like the person you are. That means the best food and drink I can offer, the comfiest bed and cleanest of sheets and clothes, hot showers, proper medical care for all parts of your body, and I’ll even throw in the opportunity to go back to The Inventory for you to enjoy yourself and gamble on my checkbook,” she generously offers. 

But there has to be a catch. There’s always a catch with GLaDOS. 

“In exchange, I need you to not only respect me and my nearly godlike authority, but I am also going to need you to actually talk to me.” 

There’s no way she knows that I-

“I know you can talk,” she reveals. “Even the most archaic of scans can show me that your vocal chords are fully intact. I imagine the reason you’ve never said a word is because you didn’t want to give me the satisfaction of a response to my endless berating.”

Son of a bitch. 

“But all of that is behind us now,” she reminds me with a hint of optimism. “If we’re going to operate properly in a healthy relationship, we need to communicate properly. So I’ll treat you with respect and speak to you accordingly if you will do the same to me, and maybe we can live together peacefully. Who knows?” she humorously chuckles. “Maybe we could even become friends. We’re both intelligent. And we understand each other better than anyone else. I’m sure we could manage a decent conversation or at the very least: a few witty parting shots.” 

This computer was once human, I have to remember. Caroline was her name. Somewhere in the endless amounts of folders there seems to be at least a few shreds of human understanding. I suppose I only have one logical option before me.

“What do you say?” she asks, the double entendre not lost on either of us. 

I smile. After all that’s happened, after all of the crazy adventures and fights, I suppose it is finally time to bury the hatchet and enjoy what’s left of our lives. I won’t come to like her over night, but she’s willing to try. She offers a decent proposal.

_“Fair enough.”_

**Author's Note:**

> The second chapter will be out in a few days. Feedback is appreciated, thanks!


End file.
